History is defined different ways. Here it will be defined as the reality
of what happened in the past: the truth of what occurred.

While the reality of a happening or a sequence of them may be recorded,
the record itself may be in error, incomplete, or be seen or thought of
differently. You see this in differing accounts of something.
But the fact remains, the history of what happened doesn't change:
it was, what it was.

It reminds me of the
words in the Rubaiyat by the Persian poet, Omar Khayyam:
"The moving- finger writes
and having- writ,
Moves on; nor al your piety nor wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all your tears blot out a word of it."

In reading about Fatima in Portugal ― the place in Portugal near
where the Blessed Virgin appeared in 1917 ― I encountered the
story of a Moorish Princess who was captured during the 12th Century in
Portugal, during the time of the Christian reconquest. I ran
into differing accounts, in writings about it, and I speak here of writings
that go back in time.

I'd seen a reference to "the words of an ancient
ballad," having to do with the story, which, in turn, led me to an account
in the The
Dublin University Magazine,
dated 1852. It told of a 12th Century reprisal action of
Christians against the Moors, because of captives the Moors had taken of
their countrymen. In this account, the Christians came by way of
the River Sado in western Portugal, to the city of Alcacer do Sal which lay
in Moorish
territory. They were led by a Christian knight named Gonzalo Herminguez, who, in the skirmish that ensued, captured a beautiful Moorish
maiden by the name of Fatima.

I wrote a story based on the history of what I
knew then, researching the setting, and trying to fill the gaps in the
story, imaging scenes and situations. I titled it "The Captive."
I had imagined, for example, that they traveled somewhat light on their
mission, made their captures in the early evening outside Alcacer do Sal
where the Moors were celebrating, and escaped by the same river they came
by.

Much afterwards, I
read a poem about this skirmish ― which I would call
here more of an action ― that was written by the
English poet Robert Southey who lived from 1774 to 1843 and who spent some
time in Portugal. His poem was dated 1801, Bristol, which was 51
years prior to the Dublin University publication. In the short
introduction to it, Southey said the story "...is related at length by
Bernardo de Brito in his Cronica de Cister, an even earlier account
than the Dublin University one. Brito was a Cisterian
chronicler who lived from 1569-1617. Southey's account agreed in
some degree with the Dublin one, yet it differed.

Looking into it, I
was informed that there were 12 copies of this particular chronicle in this country but
none were available to be checked out because of their condition, and all
were in Portuguese. I also learned at the same time, that there
apparently was a digitized copy of the University of Alberta in Canada, that
could be seen on line. This proved to be true, but it too, was in
Portuguese. I downloaded enough of the chronicle from the
Canadian site, but still had the problem of finding out what it said in
Portuguese, it not being my language. I also found I could order a
copy of it in Portuguese, in book form, through Amazon, which I did, but had
to await it's arrival. At least I had the story, even though it was locked
in the words of another language. I wanted to learn what it had to
say.

A librarian told me
of a copy in English at the British Library, so I attempted to obtain
photocopies of the pages I needed. I contacted the British
Library and eventually received an answer from the Rare Books Reference Team
in London. The respondent said, "Unfortunately, I cannot find a record of
any English translation in our collection of the Chronica de Cister by Bernardo de Brito."
In fact, "no holdings" in English were found in the UK, so the search had
extended well beyond their facilities, to Great Britain itself.

There must've been an English translation at some point in history as it
found it's way into the Dublin University Magazine. Southey also
knew the story and it may be that he got it from the Portuguese themselves.
In 1795 he went Portugal with a Rev. Hill and developed an interest in their
history and that of the Spanish. In 1800 he returned to Portugal when
he gathered information and started writing a history of the country

A kind lady who had
spent some time in Brazil when younger, and was familiar with Portuguese from her
time there, helped me get a start at translating and loaned me two of her
large dictionaries, one very large one in Portuguese and a thick one in both
Portuguese and English. I went about continuing to attempt to
translate the text myself. It's proved to be time consuming and
not without linguistic difficulty.

Using the digital
copy from Canada, I looked up word after word, poring over the
Portuguese-English dictionary. I looked into other linguistic information,
like verb forms. Eventually I started to write down word meanings in a
notebook, in alphabetical order. My notes had been on scattered
pieces of paper.

I couldn't find
certain words as printed in the text. While it wasn't true for
all the puzzling text, there were instances where one could make sense if
you allow for a mistake in type setting, just as can occur in the print
world today. There was, for example,"tas" at the top of a
column, preceded by the word, "trombe," at the bottom of the preceding
column. However, trombe had a period after it, a sign of definite
separation. Finally, ignoring the period as a mistake and
putting the two together, it worked. There is such a word as "trombetas,"
meaning trumpets, and it fit the context. Another was "ametade."
In this case, if the "a" is separated from the rest of the word, as
"a metade", it could be the preposition "a" meaning "to," and "metade"
meaning "half, middle." This seemed to fit the thought of the narrative. And
the important thing is to translate thought.

One of the differences between versions that I've found so far in
translating ―
subject to revision, if need be ― is that the Christians
didn't just come to Alcacer do Sal by the Sado River; they came "por mar,
outros por terra," that is, by sea and others by land. They apparently
assembled at Almada, on the mouth of the Tagus River, across from Lisbon. Those who came by sea, went out into the Atlantic, came south off the
Iberian coast, and entered the estuary of the Sado. This two-pronged
approach was a co-ordinated undertaking, broader in scope in the Chronica de Cister
than what seemed to be the case in the Dublin Magazine account.
I imagine that with travel on sea and open water, their mission was fraught with the
possibility of discovery.

Not only was Portuguese a foreign language for me, but
an older form of it. There were some spelling differences, like "y" is now
rendered "i." Then there's the curious character that resembles
an "f" but is now rendered as an "s." Translating from this
chronicle was a challenge. But I hope what one reads of the
translation, or gleans
from it, will not only be interesting, but will shed some light on
the message of Fatima in a deeper way.

There's reason to wonder, if not to believe, that
these events in the 1100's A.D., were being used by Providence, to help lay
the groundwork for obtaining peace in our times, and in the Middle East in
particular. That's taking a long view of things, but it's
entirely within the province of God. He has the long view of
everything. I can see where the events of way back then, make sense
for today.